


Puppy Love

by thebearking



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Other, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Steve foster a dog for a couple weeks. Steve wishes you would treat him as affectionately as you treat a goddamn golden retriever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> reader is an avenger who lives with steve in a house near the avengers facility in upstate new york.
> 
> figured i'd write something dog-related for steve since i wrote something cat-related for bucky :3

The moment you first saw the golden retriever, Steve knew you were hooked.

“‘Bean’?” you said, reading the tag tied to the dog’s cage. The dog’s tail began to wag, his ears perking up with interest. Your face lit up with a smile. “Hi, Bean!” you cooed, kneeling down so you were eye-level with him. He thrust his nose between the bars of the kennel, sniffing loudly and flicking his tongue out to lick your nose. “Wow, Bean, what a pretty boy you are! Who’s a pretty boy? You’re a pretty boy!”

Steve chuckled. You were the kind of person who gasped and squealed with delight whenever you saw a dog out on the street. You had volunteered at the Humane Society when you were younger, but you had never had a dog of your own, and Steve knew you wanted one desperately. With your job as an Avenger, keeping a full-time pet was too much for the both of you, so you figured you would foster one for a week or two to see how it worked out. The dog before you currently was a handsome golden retriever, his muzzle already streaked with white.

“Isn’t he beautiful, Steve?” you said, laughing as Bean covered your face in slobber. “He’s gorgeous!”

Steve leaned over to read more of the information on Bean’s description card. “Says he’s six years old,” he informed you, “and loves tug-o’-war, cuddling, and long walks in the park. Sound like your kind of dog?”

“Every dog is my kind of dog,” you sighed happily, eyes fixed on Bean. You straightened up to full height. “I choose him. I choose _you_ , Bean!” Your voice shot up a few octaves as you once again adopted your puppy voice, the voice that, to Steve, never got old.

“I think he likes you,” said Steve, as Bean barked and stood on his hind limbs, craning his neck to continue licking you. Steve stepped closer and draped an arm across your shoulders. “Welcome to the family, Bean. Let’s take you home.”

* * *

Within the first three days of Bean living at your shared home, Steve decided the unthinkable: Your puppy voice had gotten old.

Bean was cute. Hell, he was adorable. At six years old, he still chased after the tennis balls you threw for him in the park and jumped around excitedly whenever you or Steve came home, barking happily with each return as if he hadn’t seen either of you in years. He didn’t bark while you and Steve slept. He stayed obediently in his pillow bed out in the lounge. For the first day or two, Steve adored the dog.

Oh, how quickly his adoration turned to loathing.

Bean was needy. You and Steve would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie or television together with leftover takeout on the coffee table in front of you, and suddenly Bean would appear, hopping onto the sofa and settling down in your lap, showering you in slobbery kisses.

“Bean, no!” you squeaked as you were smothered in a wriggling mass of golden-brown fur. “No kisses! No kisses, Bean, no kisses!”

Steve rolled his eyes. Your rebukes weren’t all that strict when it came to Bean. He considered reaching over and dragging Bean off of you by the collar, but the look of pure joy on your face deterred him. You were so happy with the dog, and Steve didn’t want to put an end to that, not if it meant you losing that brilliant smile. So he sacrificed another potential snuggling session—and perhaps more—with you and scooted toward the armrest, making room for Bean. The dog draped himself across your lap and finally relaxed, now that he could lie comfortably on his belly with his tail whacking Steve’s thigh.

He hadn’t intended on this becoming a recurring event for the three of you, but it did: You and Steve would be wrapped up in each other, huddled close on the couch or under the covers, sometimes even kissing each other passionately—and then, suddenly, there was Bean, poking his wet nose into your cheek and nuzzling against you like his life depended on it. Steve thought about whether it really did, whether Bean’s life really hinged upon ruining the moment.

Eventually, he put his foot down on bedroom interruptions. After an especially stressful mission, Steve had had you pinned underneath him on the mattress, driving into you for all he was worth. He had one of your legs over his shoulder, and your back arched off the bed at a particularly well-aimed thrust, and every moan he coaxed out of you was like music to his ears… And he heard it: the heavy panting, the paws scrabbling across the hardwood, signaling Bean’s entrance.

Steve had quite literally pulled himself out of you, scooped Bean up in his arms, and deposited him neatly on the couch in the living room. He had returned to find you laughing uncontrollably, your arousal long forgotten, while Steve stood there in shock and mild insult, still very much ready to continue what he’d started and been so close to finishing had your goddamn foster dog not walked in to ruin the fun. He went to the bathroom to take care of himself while you rolled around in your mirth, and when he came back, you were already asleep.

The sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice with which you spoke to Bean just made it worse. Bean reveled in your affection, soaking it all up until there was none left for Steve or anyone else on the team. While you raved about the newest addition to your family, Steve complained to Bucky and Sam, who laughed at his situation more than they offered any solid advice.

So Steve sulked.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greeted him as you returned home one day with Bean in tow, having walked him yourself that morning. “Feeling any better? Down, Bean!”

Steve had gotten out of the morning walk by claiming a stomachache. He felt bad for lying to you, but any guilt he felt dissipated as Bean went to work licking your denim-clad legs. “A little. Thanks, doll. How was the walk?” The empty monotone and forced interest of his voice made him cringe inwardly.

“We stopped by the dog park,” you told him, discarding your shoes at the door. “There were a ton of squirrels there today. Bean had a blast.” You stepped around Bean to plop down on the sofa next to Steve, and you cuddled up into his side, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. Steve grinned slightly but remained otherwise emotionless, his eyes fixed on the TV show he’d already forgotten the name of. Your brow furrowed warily. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Steve sighed. He scanned the room, and his eyes zeroed in on Bean curled up on his dog bed, watching the two of you with his big brown eyes. Steve frowned. What the hell was Bean playing at, knowing how weak you were for that mournful look? “Nothing,” he grumbled.

Your hand touched Steve’s cheek, turning his face to you. Your eyes were filled with genuine concern. “Talk to me, baby. What’s up? What’s bothering you? You know I hate seeing you down.”

Steve’s eyes dropped to his lap. It had been two weeks since you picked up Bean. In two days, you would have to return him, and Steve knew it would break your heart. You’d grown attached, and so had Bean. He didn’t want to make things harder on you, but he knew he had to tell you. He raised his eyes to yours, his cheeks tinged pink despite his otherwise determined expression. “I’m jealous of Bean.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “You what?”

“I’m jealous of Bean. A dog. A golden retriever,” he blurted. You were gazing up at him owlishly. It was too late to stop there. “I’m tired of him stepping in whenever we’re having a moment together. I’m tired of having to stop whatever we’re doing just to please him. If I have to see him come up to our bed while I’m inside of you one more time, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You blinked. Many times. Steve worried he had officially lost you. Right here and now, you were going to dump him for a dog. He could see it in your eyes. He prepared himself for the worst…

And you started laughing.

You were laughing, slumped over into Steve’s chest, your shoulders shaking with every giggle, and for once, Bean didn’t come over to see what was going on. “Um… sweetheart?” Steve said finally, his hands alighting upon your hips.

You pulled back, looking into Steve’s eyes and smiling, your face positively glowing with amusement. “Steve, you know no one could ever compare to you or how I feel about you,” you murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Not even a dog. Not even a golden retriever.” Your eyes flitted away from his for a moment. You were biting your lip sheepishly. “In fact, I chose Bean because he reminded me of you. In some ways, you’re like one big, fumbling golden retriever, noble and kind and loving and needy.” Steve opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with a finger to his lips. “Nope, you just admitted to me that you’re jealous of a dog. You’re needy. And that’s O.K., Steve.” Your eyes took on a mischievous twinkle, as you stood up on your knees and swung one leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him. He watched you closely and didn’t realize he was frowning until you ran your thumb over his pouty bottom lip. “Trust me: there is no one I’d rather have than you. No person, no animal, no golden retriever could ever come between us. You’re my favorite, Stevie.”

You kissed his nose, and Steve chuckled softly, leaning forward until your foreheads were touching. “Thanks,” he murmured, his mouth skimming yours as he spoke. You hummed quietly, smiling at him, and Steve’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Now, if you’ll let me, I’d like to remake a few special moments with you from these last several days, with a little less Bean.”

You squealed as he carried you off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Bean lay in his dog bed in the living room, content and fast asleep, while Steve let you know just how much he’d missed your full and undivided attention.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think in the comments!


End file.
